At the Great Door of Morning
Oh, you make it look so easy—everyday language, simple truths, no head-scratching allusions or hidden meaning—can you do this in your sleep, Mr. Hedin? Standing on your head?
We know better, and stand in awe. With three National Endowment for the Arts Fellowships, twenty-three volumes of poetry and prose (authored, edited, or translated), and more honors than this page will allow, you’re a national treasure.
The Kelp-Cutters
Ten years since I buried
All the air I could,
And followed you
Down into the dark,
Your breath shimmering
Like stars on the kelp.
Joe, when we broke through
That last time and found
The boat gone, the air
So cold we lay there
Not saying a word,
Hand in hand, treading
Until your warm grip went slack—
Joe, I could do nothing
But ride with the kelp
Into dawn, rocking
In the cold slate,
Listening to myself pump
The damp night full of breath.
Reviewed by
Matt Sutherland
Disclosure: This article is not an endorsement, but a review. The publisher of this book provided free copies of the book to have their book reviewed by a professional reviewer. No fee was paid by the publisher for this review. Foreword Reviews only recommends books that we love. Foreword Magazine, Inc. is disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255.
